


Complaints of a Tired Welshman

by DinoDina



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 21:56:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9461888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinoDina/pseuds/DinoDina
Summary: Ianto's thoughts on his job and his relationship with Jack.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written on 01-27-15. Cross-posted on ffn.

Sometimes, Ianto hated his job. _Hated_ it. And it wasn't the hostile aliens, nor the fact that he could be killed at almost any moment. It wasn't even Owen's sharp—almost like his scalpels—jibes, or Gwen's condescending glances when she caught him looking at Jack. And, no matter what some people might think, it wasn't feeding the inmates or training Myfanwy.

It was the small things. The fact that the settings on his coffee machine changed daily, courtesy of Owen and his petty ways of aggravating Ianto, just like the big brother he never had. The fact that Mainframe didn't always recognize him when he tried to enter the Hub, because Tosh's constant fiddling triggered the older protocols that prohibited him from it, from back when he was stalking Jack or on suspension, something Tosh was always apologetic about. It was Gwen wasting too much paper for reports and leaving it for him to clean up.

It wasn't Jack's endless flirting, nor the fact that he ignored Ianto in favor of sex with Ianto or, as he called it, "Weevil hunting".

It was how Jack didn't clean up after himself after lunch, and stared at Ianto when he had to do it. It was how Jack either flaunted their relationship or completely disregarded it, based on the situation, when it suited him. It was how Jack ordered them all around and yelled when they questioned him, yet got annoyed when they didn't challenge him on stupid decisions. It was how Jack valued their work over him. It was how he valued _Gwen_ over him.

Sure, the invading aliens with a penchant for shooting, mauling, zapping, and killing humanity annoyed him. And it didn't help that they attacked the Torchwood team when they happened to interfere. He also wasn't fond of the aliens targeting him, the "weakest link" according to Owen, but that allowed them, most of the time, to come out of top. The getting shot at—or just plain shot—part was almost as bad as the mauled, zapped, or almost killed part. But he had signed on for that. He was _prepared_ for that.

The fact that Owen chose him to be his punching—meant both literally and figuratively—bag was not a nice one. It was painful, humiliating, and it took most of Ianto's self-control not to respond. But, while Owen gave taunts gladly and comfort with the ease of an alcoholic giving up whiskey, he wasn't all bad, to Ianto at least. That same comfort no one would ever receive was given to Ianto after a particularly rough night, only, of course, with a lot of beer to be used as an excuse. Owen was the sort of friend one fell back on in incredibly horrible situations. The sort of friend Ianto found himself in need of way too often.

Gwen, Ianto had decided soon after she had joined Torchwood, was extremely gifted at tunnel vision and selective hearing. She, due to her copper past, was capable of spotting details few other would have. Said tunnel vision often prevented her from seeing everything. What she did see, though, to her, seemed like proof that Ianto's love for Jack was sad, pathetic, and one-sided. She saw his eyes move to him when they should have been focused on something else, missing the fact that Jack's were doing the same thing. While annoying, even more so when she tried to get him to talk about his "feelings", it was easy to deal with.

The "inmates", as Owen had dubbed them, were quickly put into Ianto's jurisdiction. It was up to him to feed them, clean them, and make sure they didn't die. It was a messy job, one that consisted of cleaning up Weevil droppings, occasional vomit, and trying to figure out what a new species of alien liked to eat. It also cost him many a suits. It was by no means a job Ianto enjoyed, but it was, surprisingly, a peaceful one, and one that gave him time to think.

It was the same when caring for Myfanwy. Ianto had given the pterodactyl the name shortly after he had taken to not only making sure she was alive, but actually caring for her. It was no secret that Myfanwy was Ianto's pet. And for good reason. The pterasaur was what had gotten him a job with Torchwood Three, and was responsible for the first obvious sexual tension between him and Jack. And no matter how many times Myfanwy ruined his suits or nibbled on his hand, Ianto loved her.

Another thing Ianto viewed as his "baby" was the coffee machine. It had been at the Hub since before Ianto had been, since before Tosh had been. When he had finally figured out how to use it—instant promotion, he had honestly deserved it—he had claimed it. No one else was going to. And fiddling with it, well, was something worth a death sentence, at least in Ianto's book. The fact that Owen cared, or didn't care, enough to do so flattered Ianto, even if it did make him want to fling a sharp pencil into the young medic's eye.

Torchwood operatives, those who didn't have a life more so than the ones that did, kept long hours. Jack never left the base, partly because he lived there. Tosh, too, sometimes stayed overnight. She had bursts of technological inspiration, ones that made few fiddle with systems. While that made new things possible, it also made old things possible. Tosh was nice about it, but that didn't mean that Mainframe's sudden noncooperation didn't trigger painful memories for Ianto.

As the unofficial cleaner of Torchwood Three, Ianto made sure that the Hub, as well as crime scenes, was manageable and orderly. Whether it was cleaning up pizza boxes, coffee mugs, autopsy accidents, or out of date pamphlets, it was up to Ianto. That would have been fine if Ianto just cleaned up what the others hadn't gotten. But the fact that Owen spilled mugs of coffee on purpose, and that Tosh, when wrapped up in a project, dropped papers and didn't pick them up, that Jack laughed when Ianto had to bend over and clean up something in his office influenced Gwen into making a mess at her own desk made his kind thoughts about the ex-PC disappear. She was talented at Followed The Leader, and Ianto happened to be the victim of that. As much as she advocated for independent thought, Gwen seemed to not practice what she preached.

But Jack took the cake.

His flirting wasn't a sign of sincere sexual affection, just there to make people feel good—people including him—and do what he wanted them to do. But it was the same words he used, still used, on Ianto, just without the special gleam in his eyes. That, except the desire to let Jack have fun—he did have fun when he did that—was what let Ianto stand by calmly when Jack did his "thing".

Jack was a considerate lover. He met all of Ianto's physical needs, and he wasn't selfish, except for when it came to sharing the covers. He was a hopeless romantic, one that knew how to set the mood and flatter a date. But he also took. He took people's lives, took their innocence. When he was in a self-pitying mood, Jack took. He gave no consideration for Ianto's feelings, not if he was tired, not if it was the anniversary of Lisa's death or his birthday. It was when Ianto became the fuck buddy he had started out as.

Just like Gwen, and Owen and Tosh, Jack knew Ianto was the cleaner. He _viewed_ Ianto as the cleaner. And when team lunches were over, he looked at Ianto to clean it, no requests, no hesitation. It made Ianto feel like nothing more than the servant, the "Tea-Boy".

To Ianto, Jack was. . . well, Jack. There really was no explanation for what they were, not that Ianto wanted one. But he did want there to be some sort of ground rules. Some sort of directions for what to do, what he could do. Sometimes, their relationship was a fallback in an undercover or intelligence operation. Other times, it was nonexistent, just so Jack could get into something—no pun intended—without any objection.

The fact that Jack was a hypocrite was no secret. He the first to let women do whatever they wanted, but also the first to tell them to stand back in a dirty and sensitive situation. He was the first to order cleanliness in the Hub to be regulated by someone other than Ianto, and the first to ask the young man to do the work. He didn't hesitate to give his employees the night off, only to ask Ianto to stay behind.

Just like for the rest of them, to Jack, Torchwood was life. He lived under the Hub, he kept early and late hours. Ianto hated it. He wouldn't remember the last time he and Jack had been to a date that was withing 500 meters of the Hub, outside his own barely used apartment. He couldn't count how many Jack and Ianto Special Moments—JaISM for short—had been interrupted by the Rift and never continued.

His final major issue was Gwen. Sure, Ianto liked the Welshwoman well enough. He could live with her annoying habits, just like he could life with Jack's, Owen's, and Tosh's. What he didn't understand was why Gwen was more important to Jack than him. He wasn't jealous—he wasn't, it was something different—and he understood why Jack liked the woman, he just didn't know why she was more important than the rest of them. And for the life of him, he did not know why.

Sometimes, Ianto hated his job. _Hated_ it.

Torchwood was the one constant in his life, the one thing he lived for. Well, it wasn't the only thing, but one of the three. The other two were Jack and his friends and family.

He liked the action, didn't mind the danger. He could deal with annoyances, with uncertainties. He was fine with the messes, and had managed through the traumas.

But Jack, another of his reasons for living, was what made him hate it.

And Jack was, for all his faults, the perfect man.

The perfect man Ianto happened to be in love with.

Ianto hated his job. _Hated_ it.

But looking at Jack, sleeping beside him, looking like a perfect angel, with a possessive arm around Ianto's waist and a half-smile of his face, Ianto decided that he loved it.

Just sometimes.


End file.
